


The Not-So-Cold Case of Captain America

by fantalaimon



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Noir
Genre: Detective Noir, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 17:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantalaimon/pseuds/fantalaimon
Summary: Tony took one look at the Adonis that Fury marched into his office and said, “Apologies, General, but I’m afraid I must refuse.”(In which Iron Man Noir meets Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Rogers is definitely more than he seems, puppy crushes abound, timelines are best left unquestioned, and the author stretches the definition of a detective AU.)





	The Not-So-Cold Case of Captain America

**Author's Note:**

> For the Cap-IM Bingo: cop/detective/FBI AU. I was sure that I had no interest in that square whatsoever, but then I had a thought process that went sort of like detective>private investigator>film noir>IRON MAN NOIR??? So now I am once again exceeding my highest posted word count with a bingo fill. Because I am just like this, I guess.
> 
> Warning: there are some allusions to period-typical homophobia in this, but no actual examples of it because I am just here to have a good time, which means I care almost as little about historical accuracy as I do about canon adherence.

Tony took one look at the Adonis that Fury marched into his office and said, “Apologies, General, but I’m afraid I must refuse.”

The stranger, with his lovely golden hair and even lovelier blue eyes, frowned at Tony, seemingly somewhere between bewildered and affronted. Fury, on the other hand, simply ignored that Tony has spoken altogether.

“His name is Steve Rogers,” the General said, dropping a hiring form onto Tony’s desk. “He’s your new assistant.”

“I’m actually not looking,” Tony said, pushing the form away. “And even if I were, I wouldn’t hire him.”

Now Steve’s expression was _definitely_ affronted, and perhaps a little wounded, but definitely very cute, and that really just cemented Tony’s stance on the matter.

There was no harm in condolences, though, so Tony offered a charming smile and said, “No, don’t be offended, dear. I’ve just had a personal rule about these things since Gialetta, you see.”

Back to confused. “A rule?”

“For fuck’s sake, Stark, Rogers isn’t going to seduce you and shoot your chronicler,” Fury growled.

“Be that as it may,” Tony said, shrugging, “rules are rules, and _my_ rule against hiring people with such an excess of prettiness still stands.”

Steve flushed a bright red, and it was a very good look on him that Tony might have liked to explore under other circumstances, but there were few things in the world that could take the romance out of a situation as General Nicholas Fury, who only snorted and rolled his eyes when Tony spoke.

“You’ve never cared about rules in your life, Stark, and I certainly don’t care about yours.”

“Careful, General,” Tony said, smiling slightly. “If you don’t disavow any hints of my queerness, you might be thought complicit.”

“You’re too useful for me to give a fuck what you do in your private life,” Fury said, tapping a finger pointedly on the hiring form, “so don’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”

Tony sighed. “Oh, but it’s so nice to dream.”

“Sir,” Steve said to Fury, speaking for the first time since they’d entered. Even cowed as it was just then, Tony could tell it was a nice voice; the sort of voice you wanted to listen to. “Perhaps I should wait outside?”

“Oh, I think not, darling,” Tony said. “If I’m to consider hiring you, we ought to have an interview, hm?”

Steve looked to Fury, who grunted. “Just play along. It gets you farther with this one than punching him in the face.”

“Much to your chagrin,” Tony said, cheerfully.

“Obviously.”

“So,” Tony said, gesturing to the chair opposite him at the desk. “Steve, why don’t you have a seat? General, we have a lovely little waiting room, just outside that door.”

“Stark--”

“These things are generally confidential, you know,” Tony said. “Aren’t you playing along?”

Fury muttered something that sounded rather unfriendly, but he headed out to the waiting room. Steve, for his part, hesitantly took the offered seat.

“So. Rogers.” Tony leaned forward and steepled his fingers. “What is your rank, then?”

“Private,” Steve said, easy and automatic. Practiced.

Tony smiled. “No, I don’t think that’s right. It’s interesting that you’d lie about that, though.”

Steve stiffened. “I’m not--”

Tony laughed. “You are, dear, but that’s okay. Fury knows me, and he knows I’m going to figure you out, sooner or later. He brought you here because he’d rather _I_ figure you out than someone else. Regardless, though, we can skirt around that piece of the puzzle for now by simply doing away with formalities. I’ll call you Steve, and you should most definitely call me Tony. Alright?”

“Okay,” Steve said, guarded now.

“So, Steve,” Tony said, gathering a pen and paper in front of him because he thought it seemed professional. “Why do you think you’re qualified for this position as my assistant that General Fury has been so kind as to invent?”

To his credit, Steve didn’t just say _because Fury says so_. He did shift around in the chair a little, though, almost nervous. “I’m a hard worker--always have been, I like to think, but the army doesn’t leave much room for laziness anyway. Dedicated. And I’m a soldier, so I know how to take orders.”

“Do you?” Tony asked.

Steve blinked at him, whatever flow he had been building broken. “Sure.”

Tony grinned. “Not more into _giving_ orders, then?”

“As I said, sir,” Steve answered, slowly, “I’m only a Private.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed, in a voice that ought to have made it clear that he wasn’t agreeing at all. “Well, those are all very fine qualities, Steve, and I’m sure a normal office would just eat you up, but none of that specifically qualifies you to work with _me_. You do realize what you’d be getting yourself into, don’t you? Fury told you?”

“He didn’t have to, sir,” Steve said, and he seemed almost shy now. “I’ve been reading about your adventures since you were at _Marvels_.”

Oh, Fury had brought him a _fan_. That could either be very good or very bad. 

Or both.

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t do much treasure hunting these days,” Tony said, idly scribbling gibberish on the paper in front of him so that it didn’t seem like he’d brought it out for no reason.

“I actually like the new stories better,” Steve admitted.

“Oh?” Tony asked, perking up. “Why is that?” 

The mysteries were well enough liked, certainly, but he’d been told on several occasions that they just didn’t have the same excitement as the old adventures. More than one publisher had tried to coax him into selling some stories from the war, but even the roguish Tony Stark wasn’t quite that cavalier with classified information.

Audience feedback truly was important to Tony. He wanted to know what drew Steve to the case studies, how he might work with Pepper to play up whatever elements were most appealing. He was not, actually, expecting the question to make Steve blush.

But it did. Just a little, but it did. Steve cleared his throat, obviously self-conscious. “Well, you know. The _Marvels_ adventures were great fun, always a romp, and I was certainly partial to them when I was younger, but…” The color of his cheeks seemed to darken. “They tended to be all about the action, and I’ve seen a lot of action myself, but the way the mysteries show you using your mind to unravel these grand puzzles, well. It’s fascinating. I can’t imagine I’ve ever met anyone half as clever as you.”

Tony stared at Steve, openmouthed.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Was that inappropriate?”

“Did Fury send you to kill me?” Tony asked.

“What?”

“Nevermind. You’re hired. God, you can have any job you want, damn me to hell, I don’t care.” Tony signed the form Fury had left in front of him without even looking at it, then dropped the pen and went to collect his coat. “You can start right now by getting Fury out of here and telling anyone who comes calling that I’ve gone to regret my life choices somewhere dark and quiet. God!”

“Er, I think the General actually wanted to discuss--”

“Yes, yes, yes to whatever he wants me to do with you, he can phone me the details, damn _him_ to hell, I do not care!”

“Okay, then,” Steve said, helplessly.

Lord, but he was endearing. Tony wanted to kiss him. Instead, he nodded briskly before pulling his hat down over his eyes and marching out of the office to locate one of the more sensible people that Tony made a point of associating himself with as soon as humanly possible.

*

Tony was doing everything within his power not to lay his head down on his desk and weep as he listened to Steve gush at Pepper about what a huge fan of her work he was. She and Rhodey had decided to take turns in the office with Tony this week after he’d laid out the whole story for them, because he could, quote, _obviously not be left alone with this man._

Frustratingly, they weren’t wrong about that. Tony was having a difficult enough time _with_ a chaperone.

Fury had called Tony that morning to fill in the details, as well as yell at him a little and gloat more than a little. Tony told him it was unbecoming, and Fury had answered with language even less becoming.

The gist of it seemed to be that, as far as the military was concerned, Tony could do whatever he wanted with Steve ( _within reason_ , Fury had stressed, and at that point Tony had shared some rather unbecoming words of his own) as long the military was allowed to whisk him away from time to time for some very secret purposes that Tony was given to believe were also very important.

“And asking for more information than that would be futile, I suppose,” Tony had said with a resigned sigh into the receiver.

“It’s classified,” Fury had said, sounding amused. “You don’t have the clearance.”

“Meaning you want me to work it out for myself.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You know, Nicholas, you’re something of a bastard.”

And then the good General had laughed and hung up on him, so now here he was, with front row seats to Pepper and Steve charming the socks off of each other as Tony brooded over his work.

He was looking for a new case, something fresh and challenging, but he hadn’t found anything that seemed particularly engaging so far. He got mountains of requests, of course, most of them fluff cases of fans just hoping to meet the famous Tony Stark or socialites who felt Tony must not have anything better to do than stalk their spouses. It generally took a lot of digging to strike gold, and, today, Tony was rapidly losing his patience for the process.

When Pepper burst out laughing at something Steve had said, Tony gave up on tuning them out and looked up with a scowl.

“If it’s not too much of an imposition,” he said, cutting in over Pepper’s continued giggles, “perhaps I could interest the two of you in doing some actual work?”

“That’s not actually part of my job,” Pepper said, but she stood and came over to sit at the desk with Tony anyway. Steve took the remaining chair, looking bashful.

“Here,” Tony said, dividing the unreviewed cases into neat-ish stacks for the three of them and pushing the ones he’d already passed on into a pile at the center of the desk. “If a case seems promising, set it aside for me to look over. Rejects go in the junk heap.”

“What are you looking for, exactly?” Steve asked, tearing open the first letter in his stack.

“Wouldn’t be much of a mystery if I could answer that for you,” Tony said, shrugging. “You’re a fan, think about what you’ve read. Trust your gut. Most of all, no missing pets.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he gives his street informants an updated list of missing pets to watch out for every week,” Pepper stage-whispered to Steve.

“Well, I’m not _heartless_ ,” Tony said, exasperated. “It just doesn’t make a very good story.”

“Maybe not for the newsstands, but I think it makes a fine story about you,” Steve said with a soft smile.

Tony nearly choked on air. “Just… read,” he said, waving his hand haplessly at the letter in Steve’s hands. 

Blessedly, the good soldier complied, bending down to his task without further comment. Tony and Pepper did the same, and they passed the afternoon in a congenial sort of silence, only broken when Tony or Pepper would read a particularly horrible letter aloud, and Steve would laugh along with them like he wasn’t really certain if that was allowed. It was this, more than anything, that made Tony resolve to stop being such an ass. It almost definitely wasn’t Steve’s fault that he was entirely too lovely to be good for Tony’s health, after all. He was, presumably, as much at the mercy of Fury’s whims as Tony. More, even, since he was military and actually seemed to have some modicum of respect for authority.

And then, there was also the matter of all that secrecy around the man. Tony really did want to get to the bottom of that, and well, for all his fears about being charmed into a trap, Tony did have some charm of his own.

So, when the clock struck six and Steve glanced at the door like he wasn’t sure if he was meant to go or stay, Tony put on a nice smile, leaned across the desk, and said, “Steve.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” Steve asked, looking mildly alarmed. Tony really needed to know if that was an act as soon as possible. Steve didn’t seem like the type to be easily intimidated, but, then again, there was a rather big difference between facing down a military mission and facing down Tony Stark.

“I thought we agreed you should call me Tony?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Pepper rolling her eyes. Luckily, Steve didn’t seem to be paying any mind to her at all, but Tony kicked her under the desk anyway. She kicked him back, but Tony was careful not to let it show on his face.

“Tony,” Steve said, apparently having realized that the conversation was not going to move forward until he did.

Tony beamed at him. “Wonderful. Well, Steve, I’d like to apologize. I know I’ve been in a bit of a mood lately, but I have this small problem with authority figures, I’ve been told it might stem from finding out my father was a brainwashed Nazi puppet for most of my life--”

“ _What._ ”

“--but really, _you_ seem just swell, and I don’t wish to come across as unappreciative of that fact. I want you to feel welcome.”

“Okay,” Steve said, sounding hopelessly confused.

“Pepper, Rhodey, and I are attending a little soiree tonight. You should come.” Tony looked to Pepper. “Shouldn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Pepper said, bringing a little of her own formidable charm to the table, even as she shot Tony an amused look. “Really, Steve, you must.”

“I… don’t have anything to wear,” Steve said, glancing at the door again, a bit more desperately this time.

Tony was very certain that Steve must have a dress uniform at least that would do just fine for most parties, but he just smiled wickedly and said, “Oh, don’t worry, darling. We’ll get you sorted.”

*

“Do you… often come to parties like this?” Steve asked, watching as someone wearing a tutu and little else flitted by their group.

“Certainly,” Tony said, linking an arm to tow him over to a table in the corner where he’d spotted their hostess. “You should never underestimate the importance of networking in the investigation business, and there’s nowhere in the world that makes debauchery look half so classy as the Hellfire Club.”

“You flatter me, Iron Man,” Emma said as they approached, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Iron Man?” Steve asked, looking between them.

“We use codenames here,” Emma said, twirling one long lock of golden hair around her finger. She was wearing her usual outfit for these things, an all-white ensemble of a corset and cape with long gloves and high-heeled boots--and, of course, she was adorned from head to toe in shimmering diamonds set in delicate white gold. “Iron Man here doesn’t have a great gift for subtlety, but we do at least try to maintain an air of anonymity, for the more anxious among us.”

“We don’t all have your talent for disguise, _White Queen_ ,” Tony teased, and Emma rolled her eyes at him.

“That’s your codename, then?” Steve asked, looking at Emma, and Tony wondered if Steve recognized her. She wasn’t even masked like many in attendance, after all. “White Queen?” He then looked at Tony. “And… Iron Man?”

“It works for me,” Tony said, shrugging. “And I don’t care if I’m recognized. You’ll know our other friends as War Machine and Rescue, by the way.”

“You’ll be needing a name too,” Emma said, tapping her chin as she studied Steve. “Unless you already have an alter ego ready to go, like Iron Man here?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” Steve said, with a laugh that Tony noted as nervous. It could just be the party, or the conversation itself, or the way Emma was looking at him.

Or it could be something else.

“Well, if you let us choose for you, I promise it won’t be flattering,” Tony said.

“Or perhaps _too_ flattering,” Emma countered, amused.

Steve bit his lip, which was characteristically adorable and left Tony momentarily flustered, which Emma almost certainly noticed and would give him hell for later. “Er. How about Nomad?”

“Feeling a bit lost?” Tony asked, pulling himself back together. “Or elusive, perhaps?”

“Maybe he just meant he’s _well-traveled_ , Iron Man,” Emma said, giving Steve a once-over. “Yes, Nomad. I can work with that.” She glanced at Tony. “You didn’t get him a costume ahead of time, I’m assuming?”

“And deprive you of the opportunity to play with him?” Tony asked, grinning.

“I’m sure I have something in the back,” Emma said, standing and gesturing for Steve to follow her. “Come along.”

When he didn’t move right away, Tony shoved Steve in her direction, shouting, “Be gentle with him!” at Emma’s back. Steve went, but he shot Tony a betrayed look over his shoulder. Tony winked, and Steve looked away again quickly.

“Made a new friend, Stark?”

Tony turned to see Namor coming up beside him, sipping something clear and undoubtedly liver-rotting from a glass. He wasn’t looking at Tony as he spoke, though--his eyes were fixed on Steve’s back, all the way up until Emma dragged him behind a closed door.

“You know him?” Tony asked, trying not to sound excited. He wouldn’t have picked Namor out as the most likely of his contacts to know military secrets--he was determinedly nonpolitical, after all, and nongovernment, nonmilitary, and nonlegal to go along with it--but that didn’t mean he _couldn’t_ know anything. Namor was smart, wary, and met a hell of a lot of people.

“Almost certainly not,” Namor said, crushing Tony’s hopes. “But he does remind me of someone.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, there can’t be many men on Earth blessed with a figure like that.”

Namor snorted. “Indeed not. Is that why you brought him here? You’re hoping to see more of it?”

“Namor, you insult me,” Tony said, _tsking_ softly. “As if I couldn’t get a man naked on my own. What, are you worried he’s going to steal your spotlight?”

Namor, unperturbed, just raised an eyebrow at Tony and took a long sip of his drink. The man was _very_ well-built, and was wearing possibly the least clothes of anyone at the party--and that was saying something. Most people there had masks on and made a point to cover any distinguishing features, but Namor wore nothing but a tight pair of scaly green underpants.

Tony wasn’t… _un_ affected. But he’d seen it all before.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be getting changed, Stark?” Namor asked, idly swirling whatever was in his glass. “Emma will have your head if you plan on wearing that all night.”

“I don’t have my clothes with me, I’m afraid,” Tony said. “Dear Jan has promised to bring me something really spectacular, but I seem to have beaten her here.”

“Well, that promises to be interesting, at least. The Wasp is not one to disappoint.”

Tony snorted. “No, she certainly isn’t.”

Namor downed the rest of his beverage and gestured to Tony with the glass. “Drink?”

“Ah, no, thank you. I’d feel a rather bad date if I abandoned him to get drunk, you know.”

Namor tapped the side of the empty glass with his little finger, looking contemplative. “Stark, about your _date_ \--”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted when Emma fell on them, looking radiant (as always) and extraordinarily pleased with herself (as always). “Ah, Iron Man! You’ve found the Sub-Mariner for me. And I have brought your Nomad, as promised; shall we trade?”

“We’ll have to catch up later,” Namor said to Tony, voice low, and then he slid an arm around Emma’s waist and took her away.

With the two of them gone, Tony could finally get a look at Steve. He nearly wished he couldn’t.

“This,” Steve said, arms crossed awkwardly against his chest, “seems really inappropriate.” 

The costume Emma had found for him appeared to consist of skin-tight, dark blue velvet with a neckline that plunged all the way down to his yellow belt. He also had a cape, the same navy velvet but lined in the yellow of his other accessories, and a mask that Tony supposed would do well enough at disguising his features to anyone who wasn’t expecting him. As Tony _had_ been expecting him, it only really succeeded in adding to the… look.

“You look delicious,” Tony said, though it took him a second to get his voice working again. “And, if you look around, you’ll see that this outfit is downright modest compared to most here. Don’t go all blushing maiden on me now, darling.”

“I’m not,” Steve said, and he dropped his hands to his hips as though to prove it, which was… hm. “But it seems a little unbalanced, me done up like this and you still in your work clothes. Enough to make a fella feel used. I’m not a doll, you know.”

Tony couldn’t help but grin at that. “Oh, I’ll be changing just as soon as my friend arrives, don’t worry. _You_ may have some professional interest in maintaining a good reputation for yourself, but I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of the chance to see _me_ all… dolled up.”

“And what a lovely doll you make, Tony,” Janet’s voice called out, and he looked to see her dancing around other guests as she made her way to him. She always walked so lightly, it almost seemed as if her feet didn’t really touch the ground. She was wearing a black and gold leotard today, with a silver circlet upon her head that appeared to simulate antennae. Affixed to her shoulders was her signature pair of lace and wire wasp wings. They couldn’t fly, of course, but they _could_ move--they were incredible little inventions, really. Tony hadn’t been the one to create them, but he’d helped Jan tune them up so many times since that he was certain he could build a new pair from scratch from just his memory, if he wanted to. Not that he would ever dream of doing so, except perhaps at Jan’s request.

She reached the two of them and pressed a package into Tony’s hands. “Changing room, go. Shout if you need any help with it, but I think you’ll be able to manage.”

“Should I be afraid?” Tony teased, making to undo the wrapping.

Jan batted his hand away, giggling. “Don’t! You’ll spoil your entrance.”

“Alright, alright.” He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her towards Steve. “Nomad, this is Wasp. She’s an old and dear friend. She’ll look after you while I get dressed--won’t you?”

“Of course!” Jan said, slipping over to Steve’s side and taking his arm. “It’s your first time, isn’t it? I know everyone here, let me introduce you around…”

Tony took his leave and claimed one of the rooms along the back wall, his gift from Jan held carefully under his arm. All of the side rooms in this place were identical--locked from the inside, held a big, plush sofa and a wardrobe that even Tony dared not open without Emma’s guiding hand, and had entirely mirrored walls. And lights set on a dimmer.

Tony settled down on the couch. He unwrapped the package and let out a long, low whistle. Jan had really outdone herself.

The outfit was, admittedly, a bit more difficult to get into than most of his party clothes, but hardly more difficult than his armor. Tony managed it in what he felt was a very reasonable timeframe, though he did pause a few times to run his hands admiringly along the surface of the garment over his body. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that if felt spectacularly nice. Jan was a genius.

Tony emerged from the room to a lot of whistles and hollering once people caught sight of him. It was all very cheerful--most of the people present were friends of Tony’s by some measure or another, and the rest knew the rules. There was no reason for bashfulness, so he waved, grinning, and dipped a curtsy.

Jan came over to fuss at him, adjusting his hair with a bright a smile. “Goodness, Tony, I’ve made you more beautiful than me!”

“Impossible,” Tony said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “But you have my gratitude nonetheless.”

“What do you think, Nomad?” Jan said, moving aside to give Steve a better view.

Steve said nothing, only staring at Tony in shock. Difficult to say if it was a good sort of speechlessness, but Tony felt confident he could work with it either way.

“Your costume doesn’t seem so bad now, hm?” Tony asked, pulling his skirt up around himself to give a flirty little twirl.

Jan had set him up in a classic flapper sort of dress, with rich red fabric and shimmering gold beads and sequins all over. Heels were beyond Tony and Jan knew it, but she had provided a pair of opera gloves and a fluffy feather boa, both in black. The dress showed off quite a lot of skin, but it covered his shoulders completely, leaving none of Tony’s chest bare. Jan knew him well.

“It’s, um.” Steve cleared his throat once, twice, three times. He couldn’t seem to force out the words until he’d turned his eyes elsewhere. “You look nice.”

“Do I?” Tony asked, allowing his delight at the compliment to show through. He crossed the space between them to take Steve’s arm, as Jan had done earlier. He leaned in close to murmur in Steve’s ear. “You’re _so_ kind. Come on, soldier, let me show you around. Did Jan introduce you to Jessica already…?”

It took a while, but Steve slowly relaxed into the feeling of Tony hanging off of his arm. Tony did his best to help that along--he made a pretty excellent dame, if you asked him. He took Steve all around the room, making introductions and sharing gossip and flirtations. It was great fun, but Tony’s private objective of making some headway on figuring Steve out wasn’t panning out. Even the military officials in the room didn’t seem to recognize Steve, although Tony was very certain that Steve had recognized them.

The most promising lead of the evening, it turned out, had been Namor’s almost-reaction at the beginning of the night. Tony was looking around the room with half a mind to chase the pirate down to see how he and Steve would interact with each other, when Steve cleared his throat.

“Um, Tony?”

Oh, using his name. Because he felt they’d grown closer, or just because it felt odd calling someone wearing a skirt and clinging to your (very nicely muscled, for the record) arm ‘Mr. Stark’? Either way, Tony would count it as progress. He beamed up at Steve, leaning back in with his full attention.

“Yes, Steve?”

“There’s… a lot of people dancing.”

Tony looked around, confused. “Well, this is a party.”

“No, I meant.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I meant, would you like to?”

“...You’re asking me to dance?” Tony asked.

“Only if you’d like.”

_Danger, danger_ , said the voice of reason in Tony’s head.

“You cannot even _imagine_ how much I would love to dance with you right now, gorgeous,” said Tony’s actual voice, from his mouth. “Please, sweep me off my feet.”

Steve smiled, but his expression was bashful. “Actually, you might have to do the sweeping. This is embarrassing, but I don’t really know the steps.”

“No?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised. He put his hands on Steve’s waist and pulled him out onto the floor. “Well, don’t worry, darling. We’ll keep it simple.”

Maybe Steve didn’t know the steps, but he was a fast learner and moved intuitively, not to mention _very_ well with Tony. He could feel their compatibility in the sway of their bodies to the music, and it nearly had him drooling. Danger, danger, indeed. It wasn’t long before Steve doing exactly as Tony had asked and sweeping him quite literally off his feet. Good lord, the man was strong.

“Thank you,” Steve said, as he lifted Tony over his head. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“My pleasure,” Tony said, when he was back on solid ground. It came out a little raspy.

“It’s getting late,” Steve observed. “Seems the place is clearing out. I’m sorry, I’ve kept you from your friends.”

“ _Please_ don’t apologize,” Tony said, and bit his tongue before he could say something truly idiotic, like _would you like to continue this at my place?_

“I guess I should go find my clothes, get changed.” Steve looked down at Tony. “Head home.”

“Right. Yes. I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I brought you here, Steve, of course I’ll drive you home. What else would you do, get a cab? Just, ah, let’s get dressed, I suppose. I’ll meet you outside, by the car?”

“Sure,” Steve said, not actually removing his hands from where they were still placed on Tony’s waist for the dance.

Tony _hated_ having to be the one with willpower. He pulled away, and left Steve to sort himself out.

*

Steve, it turned out, lived in a small apartment building in a run down Brooklyn neighborhood.

“Hm,” Tony said.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Steve said. “Well, I mean, it’s really not much, but I don’t _need_ much, either.”

“I am paying you, aren’t I?” Tony asked. “Am I not paying you enough? Isn’t the military paying you anything?”

“I have money,” Steve assured him. “These days, anyway. But like I said, I don’t need much, and I’m away from home a lot, so.” Steve shrugged. “I figure, might as well stay close to my roots.”

“Very brave of you,” Tony said.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Steve gave Tony an odd look, but he didn’t press. He did something much worse.

He asked, “Would you like to come in?”

Tony groaned and dropped his head onto the steering wheel. “Yes, I would.”

“So…?”

“I’m not going to.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “Can I ask why not?”

“Do you recall my telling Fury that I didn’t want to hire you? I believe I mentioned a woman by the name of Gialetta.”

“You did. Who was she?”

“My assistant,” Tony said, not sitting up. “You probably read about her in _Marvels_ , although I think Pepper changed her name and took out the less child-friendly elements. We were seeing each other. She turned out to be a nazi.”

“I am _not_ a nazi,” Steve said. “I fucking hate nazis.”

“I believe you,” Tony said, and now he did look up. “But you have a secret, don’t you? A big one.”

Steve was silent. 

Tony smiled at him. “Don’t feel bad, beautiful. I love a good mystery.”

“But you’re not interested in sleeping with one,” Steve said, and it sounded like he was having a sense of humor about it, at least. That was nice.

“I’m _very_ interested, but I’m trying to think things through this time.”

“I understand,” Steve said. “I’m sorry that you were hurt like that.”

“I’m sorry for hurting _you_. I didn’t think you’d really be interested.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Steve said with a small smile.

Tony shook his head. “No, I underestimated you. I’m sorry, about the flirting. That was thoughtless of me. I’ll watch myself, going forward.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Steve whispered. His eyes were wide and dark.

Had their faces been this close together earlier?

“Steve,” Tony said, desperately. “There’s nothing between us. There can’t be.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “There’s nothing between us. Can I kiss you?”

“God, _please_.”

Steve somehow managed to haul Tony out of the driver’s seat and into his lap, their lips locked all the while. Steve kissed with strength and urgency, holding Tony flush against him as their mouths moved together. It was as good as Tony had feared it would be. Better, even.

“God damn you, Rogers,” Tony said, breaking away to suck in a lungful of air. “You’re too fucking pretty.”

“My personality makes up for it,” Steve said, dipping his head to kiss along the line of Tony’s jaw.

“Who _made_ you?” Tony demanded. “Someone pulled you out of a dream. Nature is never this generous.”

Steve laughed and bit gently at Tony’s neck.

“Okay, message received,” Tony said, getting a handful of Steve’s hair to drag their mouths back together. It was some time before they broke apart again.

“You have an amazing mind,” Steve said.

“Thanks,” Tony said, the response more reflexive than intentional, dazed and drunk on intimacy as he was.

Steve smiled, and pressed one more quick, sweet kiss to Tony’s lips. “Use it.”

And then Steve was gone from under Tony, sliding out the door of the car and disappearing up the walk into his apartment building.

Tony buried his face in the leather of the passenger seat, took a deep breath, and retook his place behind the steering wheel to set off for home.

*

After that night, working with Steve felt rather tremendously awkward, as the both of them alternated between heavy flirting and avoidance of any eye contact, and not always in sync with each other either. Luckily, they only had to make it through a few days of discomfort before Fury called Steve off on one of those missions Tony had been warned about, which provided both a relief from the growing tension and an excellent opportunity to do some intensive snooping.

“It’s stupid,” Pepper said as she watched Tony start in on the third box of military records he’d obtained through a series of highly illegal but largely untraceable maneuvers. She was tapping her pen idly against the desk, looking bored. “If they want you to know, they should just tell you.”

“The military frowns on the leaking of confidential intelligence,” Tony said, pulling out a file with a large red _CONFIDENTIAL_ stamp across the front. “And whatever else they might be, Steve Rogers and Nick Fury are both very much military men. If I figure it out on my own, though, that’s a loophole.They can say, ‘Oh no, Mister President, we didn’t _tell_ him, but we can’t very well keep a famously genius detective from piecing things together, can we?’”

“It’s stupid,” Pepper said again, and Tony didn’t try to argue more because, well, it wasn’t as if she was actually wrong.

Something in the file caught Tony’s eye. “Did we know that Captain America had a team during the war? Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I thought we were researching your _other_ crush,” Pepper said.

“Oh, hush,” Tony said, waving her off. “I said the poster made him look very fetching, that hardly constitutes anything as serious as a crush.”

“That’s not _all_ you said.”

“They’re called the Invaders,” Tony said. “Apparently they saved Churchill’s life _twice_. Pep, see if you can find anything else on them in that box by your feet.”

“Oh no, you’re not interested in Captain America at all,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes, but she dragged a stack of files up to the desk and started looking.

Tony chewed his fingernails as he read over the scant references to the Invaders that he had in front of him, feeling a hunch sneaking up on him but not able to pin it down yet. From what he could discern, the Invaders were a team of five core members, led by Captain America, who had practically lived in enemy territory for much of the war and were very, very good at what they did. Aside from Captain America, the only names Tony saw mentioned were _Toro_ and _Bucky_ , which were certainly also codenames.

“Here,” Pepper said, dropping a file in front Tony. “This one has a picture.”

Tony leaned in to scrutinize the photo, and his breath caught in his throat.

“It’s not very good, I know,” Pepper said, still flipping through files. “You can’t even see half of their faces, masks or no.”

“Ears,” Tony said, voice coming out slightly strangled.

“What’s that?”

“Get your coat,” Tony said, rising from his seat so fast he nearly tripped himself. “We have to go.”

“Well, alright,” Pepper said, frowning at him as she pushed to her feet. “You can explain on the way, then.”

“You know me so well,” Tony said, holding the open for her.

*

“Well, that went well,” Pepper said.

“Swimmingly,” Tony said. By the end of the visit, Namor had given him a black eye and an address. Tony really couldn’t have hoped for better.

“So Brooklyn, then?”

“That does seem to be where we’re heading,” Tony said.

“Tony,” Pepper said. “You’re not all here with me.”

Tony shook his head and gave her a quick smile. “Sorry, dear. Lost in thought.”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

Tony shrugged. “If I’m even right about this. Namor didn’t actually confirm anything.”

Except that in a way he had, probably without even realizing. Tony recognized the address.

“He was more forthcoming than the other two, at least,” Pepper said. “Even if he was still… Namor.”

Tony cracked a grin. “Like I said, the other two belong to the military. No matter who Namor works with, he’s a pirate at heart.”

“Like _I_ said,” Pepper shot back, amused. “ _Namor._ ”

Then they turned down a street, and for the second time that week, Tony found himself outside Steve’s apartment building. “This is the place.”

Pepper frowned. “Really?”

“I’m afraid so. Apartment 107B, he said.”

“You’d think the military might take better care of their best people,” Pepper said.

“That’s the military for you,” Tony said, making for the door. “But who knows? Maybe they offered.”

“You think he _chose_ to live here?” Pepper asked, with understandable skepticism.

Tony just shrugged, not quite ready to explain himself yet. Instead, he hurried down the hall, watching the numbers on the doors.

“You ready?” Pepper asked, when they reached 107B.

“I’ve visited sunken metropolises,” Tony said. “I’ve fought Nazis in ancient temples.”

Pepper looked at him, unimpressed.

Tony ducked his head. “It’ll be fine, right?”

Pepper patted his shoulder. “Yes, it will be.”

“Okay,” Tony said, and knocked.

A second later, the door swung open to reveal a handsome young man with chestnut brown hair and narrowed eyes. Tony figured him to be about twenty years old. One hand was on his hip.

The other was. Well. Missing. If he had a prosthetic, he wasn’t wearing it then. Tony understood that, he thought.

“Mr. Barnes?” Pepper asked, voice sweet.

“Maybe,” the kid said. “Who’s askin’?”

“Pepper Potts,” Tony said, nodding to her. “And Tony Stark.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as recognition flashed in them. “Oh wow. It _is_ you, wow. Er, how can I help you? Do you wanna come in?”

“Would you mind?” Tony asked.

“No, not at all, please,” Bucky said, hastily moving out of the way to allow them in. “Sorry about the mess, and the, um…” He looked down at himself and grimaced. “I’m not really at my best these days.”

“This is infinitely cleaner than my apartment,” Tony assured him as he stepped inside. “And you look great to me.”

Bucky flushed and looked away. “Right, well, uh. What can I do for you?”

This was the tricky part, Tony knew. “I was hoping I could ask you about Steve.”

Tony was prepared for a number of ways the conversation might have gone from there--if Bucky had said _Steve who_ , if Bucky had played down their connection to simple neighbors, if Bucky had just outright told them to get lost.

Instead of any of those things happening, the kid’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah! I got loads of stories from the war.” His expression turned almost shy. “Heard you got some too. Maybe we could trade?”

“Yes,” Tony said, immediately and emphatically as Pepper giggled behind her hand. “Absolutely, yes.”

*

Bucky had a _lot_ of stories. Tony was worried he was going to run out of material to swap--the disadvantage of publishing half of his adventures--but Bucky didn’t turn out to be much of stickler for keeping score. He was excited to share and eager to listen.

“You’re not going to get in trouble for this, are you?” Tony asked, at one point.

“Not unless you rat me out,” Bucky said, cheerfully. “Besides, Cap would probably thank me. He couldn’t shut up about getting to meet you for a week, and between us, it only got worse after it actually happened.” He scowled. “But he _still_ wouldn’t introduce me. Said it was too early for that or some shit.”

“It doesn’t feel too early to me,” Tony said.

“ _Right_ ,” Bucky said. “I don’t know what he was on about. Hey, do either of you want a Coke or something?”

The afternoon passed into evening, and Tony couldn’t bring himself to leave. Pepper seemed to be enjoying herself too, taking over telling Tony’s stories for him more often than not--she was the professional, after all.

The only difficult moment of the night came when Bucky told them the story of how he lost his arm. He had choked it out, seeming self-conscious for the first time, like he was uneasy in his own body.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said, and Pepper made a gentle noise of agreement.

“It’s just, I know I’m hard to look at now,” Bucky said, not meeting their eyes. “Everyone wants to know what happened, and I get that, it’s just hard to talk about sometimes.”

“I understand,” Tony said. “Really.”

“Trust me, you’re not hard to look at. We’ve seen worse,” Pepper said, and elbowed Tony.

So Tony had sighed and pulled up his shirt to reveal the reactor pump.

“Holy shit,” Bucky said.

“Yeah,” Tony said, covering his chest again.

“Did you _make_ that?”

“Well, yes,” Tony said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

Bucky whistled. “You really are smart, huh.”

“In some ways, at least,” Pepper said.

“Ouch,” Tony said. Pepper sipped innocently at her soda. Bucky snickered.

“You know, though,” Tony said, head tilted to one side, “I bet I could adjust some of the basic tech I used for the armor to make a pretty swell prosthetic limb.”

“Would you do that?” Bucky asked, straightening up in his chair.

“Sure, if you’d like.”

“ _Please_ ,” Bucky said. “I have money saved, I can pay you.”

“Don’t you dare try to pay me,” Tony said. “Just come by the workshop sometime, it’ll be fun.”

“On that note, we should probably head back before it gets too late,” Pepper said, looking out the window.

“Right,” Tony said. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Bucky. Thanks for having us.”

“Anytime, Iron Man,” Bucky said, grinning. He raised his cola bottle to the two of them in salute. “And hey, if you’re free next week, you should go to the fundraiser for the new veteran’s hospital. It’s supposed to be quite a party. Captain America’s gonna be there.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Tony said. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Oh, I dunno. I’d hate to keep you from your date.”

“You’re a little bit of a menace, aren’t you?” Pepper asked.

Bucky snorted. “I certainly do my best, ma’am.”

*

Tony wasn’t sure if he ought to expect Steve sometime back before the fundraiser, but his desk remained empty all week. (Yes, Tony had already bought him his own desk. Shut up.)

If he was honest, Tony was beginning to fret a little. He’d had some doozies where missions were concerned, but he’d also almost died a fair few times. Sure, he was no Captain America, but who _knew_ what sort of assignments the army threw at Steve. If he had died in a ditch somewhere, would Fury tell Tony? Would _Fury_ even know? 

What if Steve was captured, somehow? Would they call in someone like Iron Man for help, or would they just cut their losses?

Oh, god, Steve was being brainwashed by the vestiges of some nazi cult. They were making him into their very own Kapitän Zemo at that very moment. Tony was sure of it.

“Rhodey--”

“Steve is fine, Tony,” Rhodey said, not looking up from his book.

“Right,” Tony said. He just needed to breathe. “Okay. Thanks.”

Rhodey smiled at him and went back to reading.

Tony laid his head down on his desk and thought to himself, _deep breaths_.

The bell over the door chimed, and Pepper laughed from across the room. “Taking a nap, Tony?”

Tony groaned noncommittally.

“He’s panicking about Steve,” Rhodey answered for him. “Worried about him being off in the midst of untold dangers.”

“What an unimaginable experience. My heart bleeds for him,” Pepper said, but she crossed the room to pat Tony on the head anyway. “Luckily, I come bearing news.”

“Please tell me you found a case for him,” Rhodey said.

“Better,” Pepper said. She dropped something onto the desk, and Tony sat up to take a look at it.

Oh. It was a flier for the Veteran’s Hospital Charity Gala, with a big, cheesy illustration of Captain America (which did _not_ do him justice, Tony felt) and the words “Guest of Honor!” emblazoned beneath the cartoon.

“Buck up, Stark,” Pepper said, swatting him on the arm. “This is gonna be fun, right?”

God, Tony _hoped_ so.

*

It was not fun. 

Pepper and Rhodey had refused to come along. They’d claimed they didn’t want to get in the way. Tony was very skeptical of that excuse.

Parties were fun, but this was not a party. This was schmoozing with people Tony did not need or want to schmooze. It was schmoozing for a good cause, of course, but normally Tony would much prefer to donate the money and skip the event.

Because, see, people did want to schmooze _him_. People who’d never quite understood Tony to begin with and certainly didn’t understand him now, after the war, after the nazis, after--

“Do we know when Captain America is getting here?” Tony blurted out.

“Oh, yes, Captain America! I’m very eager to meet him,” said one of the girls who were apparently glued to Tony’s side. Her father was a banker, if Tony was remembering right. She was young, excitable, and proving unshakable--along with the other six or seven socialites surrounding him.

Not. Fun.

“I’m sure he’ll be arriving soon,” said one of the two men in Tony’s unwanted entourage.

“Unless he’s dead,” Tony said. “Or brainwashed.”

That earned him stares from around the circle, and suddenly people were making excuses to leave him. Ha. So the secret to driving people off was for Tony to be himself. Who would have thought?

Safe for the moment, Tony started toward the back of the room, where he could lurk in the shadows like the antisocial grotesque he secretly was, until Steve finally arrived. ( _If_ he arrived. Tony really was still a bit convinced of nefarious interference, and Rhodey wasn’t around to stay his worries this time.)

“Tony Stark?”

_Short moment_ , Tony thought, and turned around to face the direction of the voice. Shockingly, though, his smile when he caught sight of the speaker was actually genuine, for once that night.

“I _thought_ that was you!” Cassie Lang said. She jumped forward to throw her arms around Tony’s neck, and he caught her up in a hug.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Tony asked. He spun her around because, well, he could.

She giggled, just like she used to when she was still half her current size. “Kate brought me!”

Oops. Tony hadn’t even really noticed her friend, despite the eye-catching purple dress.

Tony set Cassie down, and held out his hand to the other girl. “Hi there. Tony Stark. I’m a friend of Cassie’s dad’s.” 

Tony didn’t mention how he and Scott had met, in case Cassie didn’t actually want this girl knowing all the shadier details of her family history. They’d changed the names in the magazine for that very reason, after all. 

It was a hell of a story, though.

The girl took Tony’s hand, and something about her expression made Tony suspect that Cassie might have already filled her in after all. “Kate Bishop. And I know who you are.”

Tony knew who she was too, then, at least by association. Derek Bishop was a difficult man not to know, and Tony had certainly tried.

But Kate was nothing like her father, Tony was already quite convinced. She cemented this suspicion when she grinned at him and said, “I’m going to steal your job.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Adventurer?”

“Nah,” Kate said. “That’s the other Hawkeye. I meant the detective thing.”

“ _Hawkeye?_ Are you talking about Cli--”

Cassie clapped her hand over Tony’s mouth before he could finished the question. “Uncle _Tony_ , you can’t just go around shouting out people’s secret identities.”

Tony pushed her hand aside. “Fine, Cassie, fine. But I’m calling on your dad about this. _Hawkeye_ too.”

Cassie pouted, but she didn’t looked panicked, which probably meant Scott was at least aware of whatever she and her friend were getting up to. Possibly encouraging it. Scott was like that.

So was Clint Barton, in fact.

Tony sighed. He needed better friends.

“So,” he said to Kate. “The detective thing. You any good at it?”

So, that was how Tony ended up spending his evening gossiping with a pair of teenage girls. Kate was very good, it turned out. New York would never know how lucky it was that the girl had decided against going into the extortion business.

“I’m going to be the assistant,” Cassie said.

Tony laughed. “I assumed you’d be the muscle.”

Cassie shook her head. “We’re all the muscle, but Teddy and Eli are the _most_ the muscle.”

“I’m the sharpshooter, though,” Kate said, and Cassie nodded agreement.

“There’s more than the two of you?” Tony asked.

“Oh, yeah! There’s also Billy and Tommy. They’re twins, so we figure that will be useful.”

before Tony could puzzle out how to respond to that, Kate interrupted with a long, low whistle. “Captain America’s a _looker_.”

“He’s here?” Tony straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall, feet already moving in the direction Kate had been looking before his own eyes caught the first flash of blue, obscured by the crowd. The kids ran after him, laughing.

“Is _that_ why you came tonight, Uncle Tony?”

“I came because I support veterans, shush.”

“Maybe _one_ veteran especially, though?” Kate asked, voice sly, and Tony would probably be a little more concerned by that if he hadn’t gotten the same read from Kate that she must have gotten from him.

Still, though. There were other people to worry about. “Quiet.”

The girls stopped teasing, but they didn’t back away to let Tony make his approach alone. He guessed they must have wanted to meet Captain America too.

They reached the edge of the crowd, and then Tony could see him properly. He looked like Steve, sort of. Same build, same incredible muscles, but the posture was--just slightly--off. He held himself differently. Bigger. Commanded the space in a way Steve never did.

It wasn’t nerves that made Tony stop, not exactly. It just… felt wrong, suddenly. It hit him, all of a sudden, how incredibly public this was. Tony couldn’t go up there and call him _Steve_ , or ask him to dance, or.

Do any of the things the moment deserved.

“You alright, Stark?” Kate asked.

“Yeah, sorry, yes,” Tony said. “I think I just realized realized something.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “About one of your cases?”

“...Yes. A top-secret one. Sorry, kiddo.”

“Aw, boo.”

“So, you know, I guess I have to go,” Tony said.

“Right now?” Kate asked.

She was scrutinizing him, but eh, she’d probably just assume he’d gotten cold feet. “Right now. Sorry. Say hi to Captain America for me, kids.”

“Okay,” Cassie said. She sounded baffled.

Kate crossed her arms. “Can we visit your office sometime?”

Tony laughed. “Sure, Detective. We can work a case together and everything.”

Something that wouldn’t involve guns, though. Tony wasn’t Clint Barton.

“Okay,” Kate said, apparently happy enough with that answer not to feel the need to interrogate further. She turned to take Cassie’s arm and gave Tony a small wave. “We’ll tell him.”

Tony allowed himself one last look at Steve, bright-eyed and heroic-looking in the uniform that hid his identity from the world. He looked up, over the heads of his adoring fans, and started to scan the room.

Tony bolted.

*

There were… a lot of jars of peanut butter. The pantry was, in fact, _mostly_ peanut butter. There were a couple jars of grapelade, too, and a single half-eaten loaf of bread. It was horrible, really.

“Must remember to buy Steve actual food,” Tony muttered under his breath. He had no idea where Steve kept his cutlery and didn’t feel like making a racket searching around the kitchen. Tony briefly considered stealing and eating a plain slice of bread, but he decided he wasn’t that far gone yet.

So he contented himself with poking around Steve’s living room. A lot of Tony’s own publications were strewn about the place, which was exceptionally good for his ego. He flopped down onto the couch with the nearest magazine and started paging through.

Tony only realized he had become more engaged with the reading than he’d intended when he came out of it with a start when the door started to open. Pepper really was a very good writer.

Steve walked into the room, a bag slung over his shoulder. The helmet and gloves were off, and he’d changed his boots, but even through the dark, Tony could still make out a scrap of blue scalemail showing from under Steve’s coat. 

Captain America was clearly exhausted. He let the bag fall to the floor as he slumped against the doorframe, eyes falling shut as his head hit the wall.

“You seem tired,” Tony said as he turned to the next page of the magazine. “Want a backrub?”

Tony was already half-expecting to get a gun pointed at him for that, and the good Captain did not disappoint. He didn’t shoot, thankfully. That would have made for a terrible date.

“Just me,” Tony said, not bothering to raise his hands in surrender or any other such showmanship. “You know, the guy who pays you enough to eat real food and also made out with you that one time.”

“Tony,” Steve said, lowering the gun. “How did you get in here?”

“That question is insulting, and I refuse to answer it.”

Steve turned on the light, which allowed Tony to get the full effect of his frown. “ _Why_ are you in here?”

“Not happy to see me, darling?” Tony asked, finally dropping the magazine. He sat up and gestured for Steve to take the place on the couch beside him.

“I was going to be happy to see you at _work_ tomorrow,” Steve said, but he came to sit with Tony anyway.

“Not going to take off your coat? Aren’t you hot?”

Steve glared at him.

Tony sighed. “Come on, Captain. I worked it all out, just like you asked. Enough with the disguises.”

“I thought you must know,” Steve said. “When you were there tonight.”

“You saw me?”

“Of course I saw you, Tony, come on.”

“I mean, you did miss me when I was sitting fifteen feet in front of you, in your apartment, where only you live, so…” 

“ _Tony_.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry. Continue.”

“You just left, without even saying anything,” Steve said, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“I said hello!”

“Via two teenage girls.” Steve appeared unimpressed by that.

“Well, yes. Okay. They are _technically_ teenage girls. But one of them is practically family, you know, and the other is probably going to take over the world someday.”

“I don’t need the girls’ credentials, Tony, that isn’t the issue here.”

“Alright, fine, I’m _sorry_ for thinking that this might be the kind of moment better had in private. Did you want me to pounce on you in front of all of New York and God himself?”

Steve frowned. “Well, I guess not. I wasn’t really expecting you to be there. It’s just, you know. When you ran off like that, I thought maybe you were upset or something.”

“Upset?”

“Yeah, you know, that I’m…” He gestured at his chest.

Tony snorted. “That you’re extremely muscular?”

“You know what I mean, Tony.”

“Yeah, I do,” Tony said, and he leaned in to kiss along the line of Steve’s jaw, stopping to breathe into his ear. “But I kind of want you to say it anyway.”

Steve looked at him, eyes dark. “I’m really not supposed to.”

“Are you _supposed_ to let another man break into your apartment and seduce you?”

“Well,” Steve said, “when you put it like that.”

“Mm-hm. So, Rogers,” Tony said, sitting back to cup Steve’s face with hands. “What _is_ your rank, then?”

“Captain,” Steve said. “Captain America. Okay? Can we do this now?”

Tony smiled. “I’m all yours, Cap.”

Their mouths met, and Steve’s hands found Tony’s hips, pressing him down into the couch. Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist. He figured they weren’t going to make it to the bedroom that night.

Somewhere along the way, Steve did lose the coat. Tony ran his fingers over the white star stamped across his chest.

“It’s okay?” Steve asked.

“More than,” Tony said. “But, ah, you should know--I have something that I keep rather close to my chest as well.”

“What, that you’re Iron Man? Pretty sure that secret is out, Stark.”

“Ha-ha,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “No, nothing so pretty, I’m afraid.”

Steve drew back, eyes narrowed. “Well, what is it?”

After taking a moment to breathe, to steel himself--god, he shouldn’t have put this off so long, it would have been better to tell Steve right at the start and have done with it, before anyone got invested--

He showed him.

Steve stared at the reactor pump for a long, quiet moment.

“Is it safe to touch?” Steve asked.

“I wouldn’t recommend licking it,” Tony said, mostly as a joke, but Steve nodded seriously. “I would also rather you didn’t, say, punch it. But otherwise, yes, it’s safe.”

Steve hummed and touched his fingers very lightly to the scar tissue around the edge of the casing. “And it won’t be a problem for your heart if we…?” He made a gesture with his free hand. It was vague, but still more than enough to get the point across.

“Ah. No, that would not be a problem,” Tony said. “I’m all charged up. Good to go.”

“You’ll explain it to me later,” Steve said. He didn’t bother to make it sound like a request.

“Certainly, love, we can have a long talk and spill all of our most guarded secrets to each other,” Tony said, pulling Steve back down to him.

“Later,” Steve said.

“Later.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is confused by the Billy and Tommy mention: I know Wanda is in X-Men Noir, but I’m ignoring that because I love the Young Avengers, and I do what I want.


End file.
